The Baseball Bat Battalion 05: Infinite
by SCS12
Summary: Stiles Stilinski-Hale has settled into domestic bliss. Of course, such bliss involves dealing with werewolves in Manhattan society, living in a vampire's closet, and coping with a toddler who is prone to turning supernatural. Until, that is, he receives a summons that cannot be ignored. Stiles travels to Las Vegas. But Nevada may hold more mysteries than even Stiles can handle.
1. Chapter 1

"I said no such thing," grumbled Derek, begrudgingly shrugging into a jacket.

"Yes, you did." Stiles was one of the few people in New York who dared contradict Derek Hale. Being his husband, he rather specialized in it. "I remember it quite distinctly. I said we should show our support and you _grunted_ at me."

"Well, that explains everything. That was a grunt of displeasure." Derek wrinkled his nose like a petulant child.

"No, it was not. It was definitely one of your affirmative grunts."

Derek paused and gave his husband a startled look. "How can you possibly tell?"

"Years of marriage. Regardless, I told her we'd be there. We _will_ be there."

Derek sighed, giving in. Which was a good thing, as his husband and one of his sister's drones had managed to strap him into a suit and there was no way to escape from that.

 _Well, maybe one way_ , Derek thought to himself and he grabbed his husband, pulling him against his side and snuffling at his neck. Stiles suppressed a smile and pretended to struggle away.

"You look good. I like that suit."

Stiles gave his husband a chaste kiss on the cheek for his compliment. "Thank you. However, you ought to know the most interesting thing about this suit is how it doesn't wrinkle. You can get up to the most _remarkable_ things in it and no one would notice."

Derek growled, deep in his chest. "I intend to put that to the test at some point. I don't think Erica would appreciate it much at this party, though."

Stiles pulled away from Derek, patting his arm. "You're right. We'd better get going."

Clearly summoned by Stiles's desire to leave, a knock sounded at Laura's third closet door.

How Derek and Stiles had come to reside in Laura Hale's third closet in the first place was a matter of debate among those who knew about it. However, the arrangement seemed to work and as long as the vampire hives didn't find out, it was likely to remain that way. Laura Hale now had a preternatural in her closet and a werewolf pack next door, but she and her drones had had much worse neighbors and she'd had worse things in her closet, if the paparazzi were to be believed. For two years, Derek and Stiles had maintained the appearance of actually living next door, Laura maintained the appearance of actually using all her closets, and her drones maintained the appearance of not having full control over everyone's attire. Stiles had never had so many students with crushes, much to Derek's displeasure.

Stiles opened the door and took in the panicked expression of the drone in front of him.

"What's wrong?"

"Laura touched Connor."

Stiles stared at him blankly. As Stiles's son had technically been fully adopted by Laura, who was also the child's mother (you needed flow charts to understand the family, honestly), Connor was often held by Laura. And despite being Stiles's son, even if he inherited Stiles's preternatural tendencies, he wouldn't manifest those until he was at least seven. He was only five now. There was no reason that Laura shouldn't be touching Connor or if she did, it should cause a concern.

"Please," the drone continued. "Just come quickly."

Taking in the panicked expression and the general disarray of the normally impeccably neat drone, Stiles grabbed his gun – one could never be too careful – and charged down the stairs after the drone.

Stiles's husband anxiously followed.

Downstairs, Laura had converted a side room into a large bathroom for her adopted son. Although a quiet child, he, like most small boys, didn't particularly care for bathing. It required several of Laura's most capable drones. Still, this being Laura, even a child's bathroom was not allowed to be simple. A thick rug lay on the floor, the walls were painted pale blue and white, and the ceiling had been frescoed with ships and lighthouses.

In the center of the room stood a large, gold claw-footed bathtub. It was far too large for the boy – even Derek would have plenty of room in it – but Laura never did anything on a small scale, especially if she could double it for three or four times the expense.

By the time Stiles got there, eight drones were already in the room, as well as Laura.

The tub was overturned, saturating the rug with soapy water. Several of the drones were drenched. One was nursing a bruised knee and another a split lip. Laura had soapy handprints all over her.

The only person who seemed neither injured nor anxious seemed to be Connor himself. He was sitting on a chair near the wall glaring angrily at Laura. "Noth, Laura. Noth bath. Noth." He lisped around fangs.

Stiles stood in the doorway, transfixed.

His son had _fangs_.

Laura straightened where she stood. "My _darlings_ ," she said, "circle and enclose, I think. Brace yourselves. I'm going in."

All the drones straightened and took up wide boxer's stances, forming a loose circle around the small child.

The female vampire launched herself at her son. She could move fast, possibly faster than any other creature Stiles had ever observed, and he had been the unfortunate victim of more than one vampire attack. However, in this particular instance, Laura moved no quicker than any ordinary mortal woman. Which was, of course, the current problem – she _was_ an ordinary mortal. Her face was no longer deathless perfection but slightly sulky. Her movements were still graceful, but they were mortally graceful and, unfortunately, mortally slow.

Connor leaped away and zipped about looking for a break in the circle of drones. Unaware of his own supernatural strength, he managed to bash his way between a drone's legs, making for the open doorway.

Except the doorway was not, in fact, open.

"Daddy!" came his delighted cry, and then, "Dad!" as Derek's head loomed up from behind his husband.

Stiles held out his arms and Connor barreled into them with all the supernatural a toddler vampire could manage. Stiles let out a grunt at the impact and stumbled back into Derek's embrace.

The moment he came into contact with Stiles's bare arms, Connor became no more dangerous than any squirming child.

Laura came over, looking apologetic, but once more pale, and her movements quick and sharp. "Well, I know we weren't expecting this quite so soon, but it seems at least one of my theories was right. Connor can literally steal my vampirism with a touch. It seems your touch, Stiles, gives it back."

Stiles nodded. "I wonder if it works with wolves as well. Derek?"

Stiles held out the squirming child to his husband.

Derek took him gingerly and was suddenly holding a small wolf cub. Before he could escape, though, Stiles already grabbed a hold and turned him back into a small child.

"Well, I guess that settles that. I guess we should cancel with Erica tonight."

Laura was aghast at the mere suggestion. "Oh, dear me no, _darling_ , never that! We'll be fine here. We don't need to study Connor all tonight. He'll be just fine here with my drones and I'm sure not less than a few of your clavigers. I won't let him touch me."

Stiles looked at her incredulously. "You're sure you'll be okay?"

Laura smiled. "Of course. I admit I hadn't anticipated such a challenge with Argent suggested the adoption, but we'll be _fine_."

They finally escaped and once in the car, Stiles sighed. "Poor Laura."

Derek grinned. "Oh, she loves it. Hasn't had this much excitement in a hundred years."

"And they'll be okay? We don't know the extent of Connor's ability yet."

Derek patted Stiles's hand reassuringly. "Laura and Argent have been researching this for a long time. They thought this might happen and so already have an idea of what it could be for Connor. It's probably limited by the night, or by distance, and clearly by you. It will be fine. We'll be back in only a few hours. How bad can it get?"

"Don't tempt fate."

"Better worry about our own survival."

"Why? What's happened?" Stiles straightened and looked out the window suspiciously. It had been quite some time since someone tried to kill him in a car, but it had happened with startling regularity for a period of time, and he had never quite gotten over his suspicion as a result.

"No, no. I meant to imply being dragged to Erica's."

"Oh really. Like I could drag you anywhere. You're twice my size."

Derek gave him a look of a man who knows when to hold his tongue.

"It's for Erica's twins. We need to go! It will be fine."

His husband's expression hinted strongly at a preference for, perhaps, death or a least a fight, rather than the next few hours.

* * *

Just outside Erica and Boyd's apartment building, Stiles and Derek ran into a familiar red-head.

"Lydia, how unexpected. How are you?"

"Fine. How is Connor?"

"Difficult, but well. And Liam?"

"The same."

They shared a small smile. Stiles, despite himself, like Lydia Martin. There was just something about her that appealed. Nevertheless, Stiles didn't trust her. Lydia always promoted her own agenda first, even as a drone, with the Order of Ouroboros second. What little loyalty and affection for Stiles she still had, therefore, was probably a low priority.

Stiles moved on from small talk in a direct manner. "And how is the queen?"

Lydia gave a small shrug. "She is herself, unchanging, as ever. It is on her behalf that I am here. I've been directed to bring you a message."

Stiles put out his hand.

"Uh, no, we have learned not to do _that_ again. The message is a verbal one. She has received instructions and would like to see you."

"Instructions? Instructions from who?"

Lydia shrugged again. "I have no idea."

Stiles turned to his husband, "Who on earth would order around the Newark Hive queen?"

"Oh, no, Stiles. The instructions came _to_ her, but they are _for_ you."

"Me? Me! Why…," Stiles almost sputtered out.

"I don't really know. Are you available to drop by this evening?"

Stiles, whose curiosity was peaked, nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek and Stiles returned home prepared to go back out immediately. You couldn't ignore an invitation from Marin Morrell, no matter how you might want to. Stiles got out of the car and made towards the front door with such vigor as to make his backside sway back and forth. Derek eyed this appreciatively.

"Would you hurry?" They were still pretending to live in their own house and so had to move swiftly up the stairs and across the secret bridge into Laura's home in order to change.

Connor, to everyone's relief, was down for his nap, nested with his head on Laura's cat and his feet tucked under Isaac's jean-covered leg. Isaac was looking strained, obviously under orders not to move for fear of waking the child. Connor was wearing an excessively elaborate outfit of cream and navy plaid. Laura had changed into an outfit of pale blue and champagne to complement it and was sitting nearby, a fond eye on her drone and son. She appeared to be reading a leather embossed novel, but Stiles couldn't quite believe it. To his knowledge, she never read anything, except perhaps the gossip columns. He was not surprised when, upon seeing them, the vampire put down her book and sprang to meet them.

Together they looked at the drone, feline, and plaid pile of child.

"Isn't it just a _picture_?" drawled Laura.

"Everything is okay?" Stiles spoke in hushed tones.

The vampire tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear in an oddly soft gesture. " _Excessively_. My little darling behaved himself after you left, and as you can see, we had no further problems."

Stiles nodded. "Derek and I have been _summoned_ to visit Newark. Will you all be okay for the rest of the night?"

"I believe we may, _just possibly_ , survive."

Before Stiles could head upstairs to change, someone rang the doorbell. Derek raced to answer the door hoping to keep Connor from waking.

It was Argent on the stoop. "Oh, good. I was hoping to catch you here."

"Chris."

"Chrissy, _darling_!" said Laura.

Argent didn't even twitch an eyelid at the moniker.

"You have a visitor," said the Beta.

Stiles was confident enough in his assessment of Argent's character to spot a certain tension. Such forced calm indicated a need for caution.

His husband knew this too. Or perhaps he smelled something. He loosened his stance, prepared to fight. "BUR or pack business?"

"Pack."

"Really? It is important? We're required to go to Newark."

Stiles interrupted. "Actually, only I need to. You were simply curious."

Derek frowned. His husband knew perfectly well that the real reason he wished to go was for security. He hated sending Stiles into a hive alone. Stiles patted the pocket of his jacket. As of yet, there was no new baseball bat in his life, but he still carried a gun and the sundowner bullets were good enough when pointed at a vampire queen.

"I'm afraid this is important," said a new voice from behind Argent, in the street.

Argent's lip curled slightly. "I thought I told you to wait."

"I'm an Alpha. You can't order me around like you do everyone else."

Stiles thought that was a tad unfair. Argent was many things, but he was not at all tyrannical. That was more Derek's style at times. It might be better to say that Argent _arranged_ everyone and everything around him.

A woman moved out of the gloom of the front yard and into the light cast by the bright chandelier of Laura's hallway. Argent shifted to one side to allow their unexpected visitor to take center stage.

Cora Hale looked about the same as she had almost three years earlier, when Stiles had seen her last. Immortality had given her skin a certain pallor, but her face was still grim and line around the eyes and mouth.

"Evening, Gramps," she said to Derek, and then, "Grams," to Stiles. Stiles rolled his eyes, both at the term and the fact that she looked the same age as both he and Derek.

"What can I help you with?" asked Derek tersely.

"We have a problem."

"Oh, do _we_?"

"Yes. Can I come in?"

Derek shifted, making an open-hand gesture back at Laura, it being the vampire's house. Vampires were odd about inviting people in.

Laura peeked over Stiles's shoulder, standing on tiptoe. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

Stiles pivoted slightly, decided Derek probably wasn't going to do it, and made introductions. "Cora Hale, may I introduce the potentate, Laura Hale? Laura, this is Cora Hale, Alpha of the Beacon Hills Pack and your great-great-great-great niece."

The two immortals evaluated each other. Laura's eyes gleamed and Cora sniffed at the air.

Finally Laura said, "Perhaps you had best come in."

The moment was broken by a small voice behind them. "Mama?"

"I see _somebody_ is awake. Hello, my darling." Laura turned away from her new acquaintance to look fondly down the corridor.

Connor's head poked out from the sitting room. Isaac stood behind him, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry. He hard your voices."

"Not to worry. I know how he gets."

Connor seemed to take that as an invitation and padded down the hallway. "Daddy! Dad!"

Cora, momentarily forgotten, was intrigued. "This must be my new great-great-great-great-half brother?"

Stiles forehead creased. "Sort of? It may be better to say your his great-great-great aunt." He looked at his husband. "Immortality makes for strange genealogy."

Cora looked like she was going to question further, but Connor, seeing a stranger, charged towards her.

"Oh, no. _Wait_!" yelled Isaac.

Too late, Stiles dove to pick up his son.

Connor dodged through the legs of the adults and latched on to Cora's leg. In the space of a heartbeat, the boy changed into a small wolf cub, outfit ripped to tatters in the process. The cub, far faster than a toddler, went barreling off down the street, tail waiving madly.

"What?" Cora blanched. Her unnatural pallor was gone and the lines in her face were more pronounced – mortality had returned.

Without even a pause, Derek stripped out of his suit.

"Well, welcome to New York, indeed," exclaimed Laura, rolling her eyes at her brother.

"Really, Derek? In full view?" was Stiles's response, but Derek was already changing midstride from human to wolf. It was done with a good deal of finesse, even if it was done rather there for all the world to see.

"Does it hurt him?" Cora asked as Stiles excited the vampire's house to watch the massive wolf chase the tiny cub.

"We're not sure. We just learned about it tonight. He doesn't seem to be bothered though."

"How long will this last?" Cora made a gesture up and down her own body, indicating her altered state.

"We have theories, but we can't be sure without testing it. My touching him will stop it, though."

Cora held a naked arm out at Stiles hopefully.

"Oh, no, not you. The effervescent touch has no effect on you anymore. You're mortal. No, I have to touch my son. Then immortality sort of, well, reverberates back to you, I guess. I'll know when I have time to study him."

Argent stood off to one side, a tiny smile on his face, watching the chaos in the street.

"Wait, look!"

Stiles didn't hear Argent raise his voice hardly ever. He whirled around to look.

Connor had reached the end of the street, where an orange lamp casts a weak glow on the corner. There he had abruptly turned back into a naked toddler.

"Well that's one mystery solved. Apparently distance will work," muttered Stiles.

Derek, still in wolf form, trotted over to pick up his human son.

"No, Derek, wait!" shouted Stiles.

The moment he touched him, Connor once more turned into a wolf cub, this time stealing his father's form, and Derek was left to stand in the middle of the street, naked. Connor tore off back toward the house. Derek made to follow, this time in mortal form.

Stiles was seized with intellectual curiosity. "No, Derek. Wait. Stay there."

Derek might have disregarded his husband, particularly if he realized he was naked in the middle of the neighborhood, but he had learned Stiles's tones. This one meant he was _on to something interesting_. Best to just do ask he asked. So Derek stood, watching with interest, as his son dashed back the way they had come and then past the house in the opposite direction.

Just as before, at a distance from his victim, he turned back into a child. This time Stiles went to retrieve him. _What must the surrounding households think of us? Screaming child, wolf cub, werewolves_. Really, he probably wouldn't put up with it if he hadn't married into the madness.

Derek, with a start, turned back into a wolf before the neighbors realized he was nude on the street.

Cora began to laugh. Laura joined her. They looked for all the world like merely sisters, rather than distant relations.

Derek, once more a wolf, went through the door after his sister and granddaughter. Stiles and his troublesome offspring followed, but not before he heard a neighbor's door click shut.

"Great," Stiles said with a sigh as he reached Laura's sitting room. "I think we've become _those_ neighbors."


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't have much time," said Stiles, sitting down with Connor cuddled in his lap. After his exhausting shape-changing laps up and down the street, the boy had done the most practical thing and fallen asleep, leaving his parents to handle the consequences.

"That was an interesting display," remarked Cora, settling herself into one of Laura's chairs.

"It was a tether, wasn't it? Like a ghost to its corpse?" asked Stiles.

"Or a queen's to her hive," added Laura.

"Or a werewolf's to his pack," added Derek.

Stiles pursed his lips and looked down at his son. "Why should he be any different, I suppose?"

Derek came over to his husband and place his hand on the back of his neck, caressing the nape. "Even you have limits. Who would have thought?"

That wrested Stiles out of his thought. "Yes, thank you. We really must go, though. So, if Cora wants to tell us why she's here?"

Cora, it seemed, was reluctant to do so in Laura's sitting room, surrounded by not only her great-great-great grandfather, but also his husband, his Beta, a very eccentric vampire that also happened to be a distant aunt, that vampire's drone, a sleeping child, and a fat black cat.

"Can we go somewhere more private?"

Derek rolled his eyes around, as if only then noticing the crowd. He was a werewolf, after all; he was naturally acclimatized to the pack around him, even if that pack had gotten rather bizarre as of late.

"Well, what I know, Stiles and Chris know. And, unfortunately, what Stiles knows, Laura knows. However, if you insist, we can put out the drone." He paused while Isaac looked on blankly, although Stiles knew he wouldn't want to miss the gossip. "And the cat, I suppose."

Cora sighed. "Fine. To cut to the chase, Matt has disappeared."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "That's not like a Beta."

Argent looked concerned by this news. "What happened?"

Stiles wondered if he and the Beacon Hills Beta had ever met.

Cora was searching for a way of putting it that would not make her seem in the wrong. "I sent him away to investigate some small matter of interest and we haven't heard back from him."

"Begin at the beginning," instructed Derek, looking resigned.

"I sent him to track down the source of the mummy."

Stiles looked to his husband in exasperation. "Isn't that just like one of _your_ progeny? Couldn't just let sleeping mummies lie, could she? Oh, no, had to go off, nosing about." He rounded on his several-times-removed stepdaughter. "Did it occur to you that I destroyed that damn thing for a _very good reason_? The last thing we need is more of them in the country. Just look at the havoc the last one caused. There was mortality fucking everywhere."

"Oh, no. I don't want to collect another one. I wanted to find out the particulars of it. We need to know where it came from. If there are more, they need to be controlled."

"And you couldn't have just asked BUR instead of doing it yourself?"

"There's not a large office near us. Not enough packs. I had a feeling us wolves needed to handle it, so I sent Matt."

"And?" Derek's expression was dark.

"He was supposed to report in two weeks ago. He never did. Then again last week. Still nothing. Then, two days ago, this came through. I don't think it's from him. I think it's a warning."

She threw a cell phone down on the table in front of them. It was the text message screen, but instead of words there was just a picture: a circle upon a cross, split in two.

Stiles had seen that symbol before, on a box holding a dangerous mummy in California and later hanging around the neck of a Templar. "Wonderful. The broken ankh."

Derek bent to examine the picture more closely.

Connor stirred, mumbling in his sleep. Stiles tucked the blanket, one of Laura's pink shawls, more securely around his son.

Derek and Cora both looked at Stiles. Derek, it ought to be noted, was wearing another pink shawl wrapped securely around his waist.

"Did I never tell you?"

"You never told _me_ , my little _darling_." Laura waved her hand exaggeratedly.

"Well the ankh is supposed to be eternal life and it broken seems to mean it's destroyed. What do you think it means? Effervescents. Me."

Laura pursed her lips. "Perhaps. But sometimes the ancients inscribed a hieroglyphic broken to keep the symbol from leaking off the stone and into reality. When inscribed for that reason, the meaning doesn't change."

"But who wouldn't want immortality," asked Cora. She had pestered Derek for years to be made into a werewolf.

"Not everyone wants to live forever," Stiles said. "Lydia for example."

Derek brought them back around to the point. "So Matt has gone missing. What do you want me to do about it? Isn't this a matter for the dewan?"

Cora cocked her head. "You are family. I thought you might make some inquiries without having to involve official channels."

Stiles made to comment that the dewan was in fact, _family_ , as the Hales, for whatever reason, had a propensity for the supernatural. Derek shook his head and gripped Stiles's shoulder tightly, cutting him off.

"I need to look into it, then."

"I'll be fine without you, Der," assured Stiles.

Derek did not look reassured. Nevertheless, it was clear he was more concerned by troubles amount the werewolves than a summons to see the vampires.

"Fine," he sighed and turned to Cora. "We'd better go to BUR, then. We'll need things only they can provide."

Cora nodded.

"Chris?"

"I'll be there, but I prefer to travel a little more formally."

"We'll meet you there, then." At which point Derek swooped down upon his husband and planted a chaste kiss. "Please be cautious."

Derek disappeared out into the hallway to remove the shawl and change form.

Mere moments later, a shaggy wolf head peeked back into the room and barked insistently. With a start, Cora excused herself to follow him.

"My hallway," remarked Laura, "has never seen such action. And _that_ , my dears, is saying something."

* * *

Stiles and his companion rode in an uncomfortable silence. Stiles had all but forced one Major Jackson Whittemore to accompany him. Even he didn't want to enter a hive so far in the middle of nowhere without some kind of backup.

Stiles became increasingly aware of a prickling sensation at the back of his neck, as though he was being watched.

He finally realized that one car had been close to them the entire drive. It may have hung back and some points or tried to hide behind other cars, but it had stayed consistently behind them.

"Jackson, I think someone is following us."

The werewolf looked up from his place in the passenger seat. "The black sedan?"

"You noticed?"

"He's been with us since we left the city limits."

"You didn't think to tell me?"

"Figured I could tell you later."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You do love to annoy me, don't you?"

"It's my daily goal."

"Don't be an ass."

"Me? I wouldn't dream of it."

When they reached their destination, the car continued on.

Stiles and Jackson made their way up the wide steps to the front door. Stiles felt odd ringing the doorbell at what had once been his home. He could only imagine what Jackson felt like, having lived there for who knew how many decades.

Jackson's face was stoic. Or Stiles thought it was stoic; it was difficult to tell under all the handsome haughtiness.

"She certainly has made" – he paused – "adjustments."

Stiles nodded. "The door is painted with silver swirls. Silver!"

Jackson had no opportunity to answer, as the door was opened by a young maid with glossy hair.

"Stiles Stilinski-Hale and Major Jackson Whittemore, to see Queen Morrell."

"Oh, yes. You're expected. Would you wait in the hall for a moment?"

They did not mind – in fact, barely heard her – as they were transfixed by the transformation the queen had enacted on their former abode. The carpets were now think and plush and blood red in color. The walls had been repapered in cream and gold, with a collection of fine art rescued from the hive's previous home on display. This was very different from a werewolf's home. One just couldn't live with fine painting and Persian rugs when one grew claws on a regular basis.

Jackson arched one blond eyebrow. "Would hardly have thought it was the same house."

Stiles didn't answer. A vampire was oiling his way down the staircase toward them.

"Ennis, how are you?"

"Dr. Stilinski-Hale." The vampire merely nodded.

"You know Jackson, right?"

"We may have met." The vampire did not smile nor show fang.

"My husband would have come, but he was called away on urgent business."

"Oh?"

"A family matter."

"I hope it's not serious."

Stiles merely inclined his head. "Shall we get on with it?"

"Of course. If you'd follow me? The queen is waiting for you in the Blue Room."

The Blue Room, it turned out, was the room formerly occupied by the werewolves' extensive library. Stiles tried to hide his distress at the destruction of his favorite room. The vampires had stripped it of its shelving and leather seats and had papered it in cream and blue stripes. The furniture was cream in color and no longer looked as if it could be sunk into.

Queen Marin Morrell sat in an arranged manner, draped to one side over the corner of a window seat.

"Dr. Stilinski-Hale, do come in.

"Queen, how are you? Are you adjusting to life outside the city?" Stiles always tried to be overly formal around the vampire queen.

The queen ignored the question and glanced away from Stiles. "Thank you, Ennis. You may leave."

"But, My Queen!"

"This is a matter for just the two of us."

Stiles said quickly, "Have you met Jackson Whittemore?"

"I have. I'm sure he won't mind allowing us a few moments of privacy?"

Jackson looked like he would mind, but realizing that Ennis was about the leave his queen with an effervescent decided it was all in good faith.

"I'll be right outside."

Stiles nodded. "I'll yell if I need you. We'll be fine."

So Stiles found himself alone in a blue room with a vampire queen.


	4. Chapter 4

The pack town house was dark. Everyone was taking advantage of the lures that New York had to offer with little risk of accidental change for the younger members or boredom for the older ones. He was making his way upstairs when he caught a smell, an unusual one not ordinarily associated with his abode. He turned, tracking with small short sniffs, following the alien scent toward the back of the house.

Scott heard the murmur of voices, his wolf hearing alerting him even through the shut kitchen door. Men's voices, one of them deep, the other higher. One sounded familiar, but it was difficult to tell who it was, as they both were speaking in a foreign tongue Scott couldn't place. It didn't sound similar to any language he was familiar with.

The conversation ended and the outer door to the kitchen opened and shut, letting in the sound of the back alley and a brief whiff of trash. Lightning fast, Scott hid in the shadows under the staircase at the far side of the hall, watching for the other party of the conversation.

Finstock emerged from the room. He did not notice Scott.

* * *

"Well," Stiles stood before the queen of the Newark Hive and narrowed his eyes at the woman. "Here I am. What do you need?"

"Now, is that any way to address your betters?" Morrell didn't move from her stiff pose.

"You've taken me away from an evening with my family."

"Yes, on the subject of which, we understood Laura Hale would have primary care for the abomination and yet…" The vampire let her words trail off.

Stiles understood perfectly. "Yes and she does. Connor lives with her. And please refer to my son by his name."

"But you live next door and visit quite frequently, I understand."

"It has become necessary."

"Oh, has his abilities shown?" The queen widened her dark eyes significantly.

"It seems I am needed to cancel him out."

The queen grinned suddenly. "Difficult is he, the immortality thief?"

Stiles finally had enough. "Is this why you summoned me or did you have something in particular to discuss?"

The vampire queen reached out to a small side table. She gestured Stiles to come closer.

"Someone wishes to meet the abomination."

"What was that? I'm afraid I didn't quite catch it. Wishes to meet _who_ , did you say?" Stiles looked pointedly out a nearby window.

Morrell showed fang. "Winnemucca wishes to meet your child."

"Who? Many people wish to meet _Connor_. Why should this particular person signify to any—"

Morrell interrupted him. "No. You misunderstand. Winnemucca, queen of the Las Vegas Hive."

"Who?"

"Oh, how can you be intimate with so many immortals, yet be so ignorant of our world?" The queen's beautiful face became pinched in annoyance. "Queen Winnemucca is one of the oldest living vampires, possibly the oldest living creature. Some claim over three thousand years. Of course, no one knows the actual number with any certainty."

Stiles tried to fathom such a vast age. "Oh."

"She has shown a particular interest in your progeny. Generally speaking, Queen Winnemucca hasn't shown an interest in anything _at all_ for hundreds of years. It is a great honor. When one is summoned to visit her, you do not delay."

"Let me get this straight. She requires _me_ to travel, to _Nevada_ , with _my_ son, on _her_ whim?" Stiles was, perhaps, less impressed than he ought to be by the interest of such an august body.

"Yes, but she would prefer if the reason for your journey were not publicly known."

"She wants me to travel to Nevada with my son under subterfuge? Really?"

"Yes."

Stiles huffed out a breath in exasperation. "Not asking very much, is she?"

"Here." The queen passed him a creamy envelope.

The sum of the request, or more properly the order, written in a slightly stilted manner that suggested the writer's first language was not English, was indeed as had been discussed.

Stiles looked up from it, annoyed. "Why?"

"Because she desires it, of course." Clearly the Nevada queen had some kind of power over the Newark one.

"No, I mean, why should I bother to go?"

"Ah, yes, sparks. So very practical. I understand Nevada is a fun place to visit and I believe there is something you've overlooked."

Stiles read the letter again and then flipped it over. There was a postscript on the reverse side. "I believe your husband is missing a werewolf. And you're missing a mother. I can help you with both."

Stiles folded the parchment carefully. "I guess we'll leave at once."

"My _dear_ Dr. Stilinski-Hale, I thought that might be the case." The queen looked pleased with herself.

Stiles sneered. Nothing was more annoying than a self-satisfied vampire, which, given that seemed to be their natural state, was saying something.

* * *

On their drive back, Stiles was chagrinned to find that he was almost out of gas. They stopped once they got out of New Jersey and, surprisingly, Jackson volunteered to pump.

Stiles went inside to pay and was waiting at the empty counter when a strange man burst through the door. His hair was long and shaggy. His face was sunburned. His beard was long and untended. He also seemed to be in a state of extreme distress.

"Stilinski!"

His voice was vaguely familiar, for all that it was faint and cracked. For the life of him, though, Stiles couldn't place the gaunt face.

"Do I _know_ you?"

"Yes. Matt." He cracked a weak smile. "I'm somewhat different from when you saw me last."

This was an understatement. Stiles remembered the man distinctly, as the last time he saw him he had gotten into a fight with Derek. "Are you okay? What happened to you?"

Stiles made to move over to him.

"No, please don't. I could not stand your touch."

"Let me get some help then. Your Alpha is here in town looking for you. I could send Jackson to fetch—"

"No, please just listen. I waited to catch you alone. Your home… your home is not safe."

"What?"

"Your mother… what she discovered. You need to stop it."

"What? What did she find?"

"The mummies, they—"

A gunshot fired clear and sharp. Stiles cried out as a bloom of red appeared on Matt's chest. The Beta looked surprised, raising both hands to cup over the wound.

He pitched forward, facedown, showing that he had been shot in the back.

Stiles clasped his hands together and willed himself to stay away, although all his instincts urged him to help the injured man. He yelled out. "Jackson!"

The Gamma came dashing in using speed only supernaturals could achieve. He immediately crouched over the fallen werewolf.

He sniffed. "Beacon Hills pack? The missing Beta? But what is he doing _here_?"

"He looks like he's been mortal for some length of time. Only one thing does that to a werewolf."

"The God-Breaker Plague."

"Can you think of a better explanation? Except he is here. He should be a werewolf once more."

"Oh, he is. Or I wouldn't be able to smell the pack in him," answered Jackson with confidence. "He's not mortal. Just very, very weak."

"Then he's not dead?"

"Not yet. We'd better get him home or he might be."

Once home, a single yell from Stiles brought all the werewolves and clavigers running. It was getting near dawn, so the house was full. The injured Beacon Hills Beta caused quite a stir. He was taken inside carefully while a claviger tried to reach Derek and Cora at BUR.

Matt was looking worse, his breath rasped. Stiles was genuinely concerned for his survival. He sat down on a couch opposite of him, feeling useless, as he could not even pat his hand.

They sat in silence, Stiles watching as Matt's breathing became fainter. Their reverie was interrupted by a clatter at the door, indicating that Derek had returned.

Stiles hurried to meet his husband.

"How is he?" asked Cora.

"Not well, I'm afraid. We've done what we can." Stiles led them back to Matt.

They entered to find Finstock bent over the injured man. His face seemed creased with worry. He looked up as they burst in and shook his head.

"No!" cried Cora, her voice ringing in distress. "Oh, no. Matt."

The werewolf was dead.

Cora began to weep. Stiles turned to look at his husband's face, only to find it full of sorrow. He forgot that Matt had been a part of his pack as well. There had been no love lost between the two, but a dead immortal was never to be taken lightly.

Stiles went to Derek and held him close, wrapping his arms tightly around him. He guided Derek to a chair and forced him to sit. He sent a claviger to fetch Argent. Then he made his way out into the hall to confirm what the waiting werewolves had already guessed from Cora's cry—that they had lost one of their own.


	5. Chapter 5

Needless to say, there was quite a lot to do before Stiles had a chance to broach the matter of Queen Winnemucca with his husband. Cora insisted on departing immediately with Matt's body for California. However, she stated that she would be returning after the burial to sort out the murder to her satisfaction. She didn't seem to believe in BUR's ability to do so. The abruptness of her departure left Stiles and Derek standing dumbly in the hallway, staring at one another, exhausted by lack of sleep. When the knock came at their front door, they were entirely unprepared to meet Laura's face, nor a chipper Connor sitting happily no Isaac's hip just behind her.

"Dad! Daddy!" greeted their son.

"We thought we'd go for a stroll in the park. I don't believe we'll benefit from this weather much longer. We we're wondering if you darlings would care to join us?"

Stiles shook his head. "I'm sorry, but we've had a pretty long day."

"So my drones have informed me. Someone had a _serious_ accident. Not to mention the fact that _you_ paid a visit to Newark Hive, my _dear_ Stiles."

"Oh, crap. Newark! Derek, I completely forgot. We need to talk about that soon. Sorry, Laura. Perhaps tomorrow night?" Stiles wasn't going to give the vampire the satisfaction of any further information.

Laura knew when she was being dismissed. The vampire tilted her head graciously, and she and Isaac returned to the street.

Stiles grabbed his husband by the arm, practically dragging him back inside and closing the door firmly behind them.

"Oh, Derek, I forgot." Stiles looked around frantically, but realized that his note would not be anywhere near here. "Oh well. I must have dropped it. I think I can remember most of the letter."

"Letter? What are you talking about?" Derek looked at his husband curiously.

"Morrell summoned me to visit Newark because Connor and I have been summoned, commanded even, to visit the queen of the Las Vegas hive."

"Winnemucca? Really?" He looked impressed.

Stiles was surprised. His husband was rarely impressed by anything to do with vampires. In fact, Derek was rarely impressed by anything period, except perhaps Stiles on occasion.

"She commands us to visit her in Nevada as soon as possible."

Derek didn't flinch at the outrageousness of such a demand, only saying, "Well, I'll have to come with you, if that's the case."

Stiles paused. He had his story all prepared. His explanation as to why he should go. He was even formulating a plan to disguise his reason for traveling. Yet, here his husband went just knuckling under and wanting to go with him. "Wait, what? You aren't going to object?"

"Would it do anything if I did?"

"Well, no. I would go anyway."

"Stiles, you don't say no to Queen Winnemucca. Not even the Alpha of the Manhattan Pack."

Stiles was so surprised he handed his husband his own argument – the one he had been prepared to battle. "You don't want to stay and see to the murder investigation?"

"Of course I do. But I would never let you go see the Las Vegas Hive alone. It's a dangerous place. Chris, Jackson, and Scott are rather more capable than I like to admit. They'll be able to handle everything here, including Cora and a dead werewolf investigation."

Stiles's jaw dropped. "Really, this is too easy. What—" He paused. "Oh, I get it. You're curious!"

Derek shrugged. "Why does she want to see you, in particular?"

"This has something to do with my mother, I think. The note implied that she knew secrets about my mother. She spent some time in Nevada – not Las Vegas, I don't think – but from what I gathered in her journals, she did spend time in the rest of the state. She didn't seem to have written anything down during that time, though."

"So, should I plan the trip? The vampires can't possibly object to us taking charge of Connor for an extended period of time. It's _their_ request, after all."

"Vampires object to everything. They will probably want to send a drone as monitor."

"Mmm. Also, it will be slower with you along. We can't go by plane if we have a werewolf." He patted his husband's arm.

Stiles yawned loudly. "I think I may go to bed soon. Get some sleep."

"Sleep?"

By the time they made their way up the stairs in their own home, across the hidden bridge to Laura's house, and into their secret bedroom, Stiles was no longer feeling quite so tired.

Derek swopped him up and deposited Stiles on the bed, following him down into the puffy comforter. Once there, Stiles gently but firmly took control from him. Most of the time, because his husband was bossy in the best possible way, Stiles let him take charge. But sometimes he must be reminded that Stiles was, too, an Alpha, and his nature would not permit him to always follow Derek's lead. He knew, given Matt's death, that Derek needed to be cared for, and he needed to look after him. The evening called for gentleness, long smooth caresses, and slow kisses, reminding them both that they were alive and together. The customary roughness could wait until he had made his point as firmly as he could.

* * *

Erica Boyd, née Reyes, was just getting home from work when Stiles arrived. The introduction of twins into the Boyds' lives had not seemed to affect their mother in anyway.

Erica's children, unlike Stiles's son, seemed unpardonably well behaved. Every time Stiles saw them, the babies quietly cooed and batted their eyelashes and never cried. Stiles found them charming and consequently was perversely glad they were asleep when he arrived.

"Stiles!" Erica squealed, pulling Stiles into a hug.

"You know you just saw me yesterday."

"Yes, but that was for the twins."

Stiles smiled and then moved right to business. "I was wondering if you would be willing to take a trip to Nevada with me – Las Vegas to be exact."

"Really? Now?"

Stiles shrugged. "There is—" Stiles paused, trying to keep a straight face, "a matter for the Baseball Bat Battalion there. I thought I might disguise it as two families taking a trip together."

Erica's eyes grew wide with curiosity. "Families? Does that mean both Boyd and I would have time off from BUR?"

Stiles nodded. "I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem." He paused. "Do you really call him Boyd all the time? Even when you're with him? What do you introduce yourselves as Boyd and Mrs. Boyd?"

Erica rolled her eyes. "It's been how many years and you're still asking me this?"

Stiles sighed. "It's just weird. And he won't let _me_ call him Vernon. I was wondering if anyone got to."

When Stiles got home, he called the Newark Hive, instructing them to have Morrell tell Queen Winnemucca that they would be taking a vacation in Las Vegas soon.

The pack got home halfway through his call and the general ruckus of too many men resulted. Derek stuck his head through the door the say there was nothing new concerning Matt and did he know where Scott had gone?

Stiles replied that, no, he didn't and would he please come in and let him explain his plan before Derek gallivanted off again.

"And now," Stiles said after his explanation, "I'm going to go talk to Laura. I want her perspective on this summons from Queen Winnemucca and I should probably let her know I'll be gone from the Shadow Council. She'll have to handle Peter on her own."

"If you think you need to."

"Der, you really need to accept the fact that Laura knows useful things. Things even you and BUR don't know. Plus, she's Connor's legal guardian. If we're planning on taking him halfway across the country, even at a vampire's request, we should ask."

Derek gestured absently and Stiles took off without further comment.

* * *

Scott sat quietly, watching the news when Chris Argent wandered in, spotted him, and said, "Oh, good. Just who I was looking for."

Scott was startled. Argent had very little to do with Scott. Dealing with Derek was a full-time job.

"What did you need?"

"We haven't been able to get any information from onlookers near where Matt was shot. I was wondering if you might have some contacts in that area, from before?"

"Laura had me visit a bar near there occasionally. One of the bartenders might remember me. Would you like me to go now?"

"If you don't mind. Would you like some company?"

They walked in silence for a long moment. Finally, Scott asked, "I was wondering if you don't dress and act like you do to blend as well as Laura's drones, only more subtly." Scott saw white teeth flash in a quick smile.

"Well, it is a Beta's job to stay in the background."

"Did Matt do that?"

"Not as far as I could tell. But he was not a true Beta. Derek killed the Beacon Hills Beta before he left the pack. Matt stepped in because there was no one better."

"What a mess that must have been."

Next to him, Argent's footsteps paused one infinitesimal minute. Without supernatural hearing, Scott would have never caught the hesitation. "For the Beacon Hills Pack? Yes, I guess it was. You know, at the time, I never gave it much thought. The Newark Pack had its own problems."

Scott had heard the rumors. He'd also done his best to learn the history of his pack. "The Alpha before Derek had gone bad, I heard."

"That's an understatement."

"You didn't like him?"

Argent was silent.

Finally Scott asked, "Are you going to answer my question or avoid it?"

Argent gave him a sharp look. "You're right. I didn't like him."

Scott felt slightly horrified. "Do _all_ Alphas go bad?"

"All of the old ones. Most of the die fighting off challengers. But the really strong ones, the ones who live past three or four hundred, they all go bad."

"How old is Derek?"

"I wouldn't worry about him."

"But he'll get there?"

"I suspect he might be one of the ones who does."

"And you have a plan?"

Argent gave a small huff of amusement. "I believe _he_ does. You believe ours is a far more ugly world than the vampires, don't you?"

Scott said nothing.

"Perhaps they simply hide it better."

Scott thought of Laura, but again said nothing.

Argent sighed. "You're one of us now. You made it through the first few years. You're controlling the change."

Scott remained silent, staring off in the distance.

The bar looked unfortunately popular.

The regulars quieted at the entrance of strangers. A murmur of talk circulated as they made their way to the bar.

The bartender remembered Scott. He was a good tipper and he never groped women in the bar or expected anything from them.

"It's been awhile since I've seen you here."

"Tom, how are you?"

"Couldn't be better. What can I get you? Still drinking rye?"

"Sure. We'll take two, neat."

Tom brought over two glasses. "I have this new rye – a cinnamon one. Thought you might like it."

Scott smiled. "Thanks. How has the place been so I last came here?"

"Oh, well, let me just tell you." Tom chattered on about all the various regulars around the neighborhood for a good twenty minutes. Argent paid dutiful attention and Scott asked enough questions to keep him going.

Finally he prodded gently, "I hear something happened nearby the other night?"

Tom fell obligingly into the trap. "There was! Gunshots! Branden swore he saw a man taking off in a black BMW. Way too nice for this part of town. And then of course there was the fire, same night. I can't imagine how they're linked, but I'm not saying they're not, either."

Scott blinked, confounded for a moment. "Did he say anything about what the man looked like?"

"Expensive. Very well-dressed. Not sure what he was doing around here. You're curious, aren't you?"

"Oh, you know me, Tom. Love to gossip."

Tom chuckled and continued on.

Argent nodded at Scott imperceptibly in approval. A well-dressed man in a black BMW wasn't a lot to go one, but it was better than nothing. And at least there were records of cars. That narrowed their suspect list.


End file.
